


sonder-

by deanssammy (babylxxrry)



Series: the dictionary of obscure sorrows [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Character Study, M/M, Mention of major character death, Other, the dean/sam is implied in like one line
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2019-01-29 12:59:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12631572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babylxxrry/pseuds/deanssammy
Summary: sonder: n. the realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own—populated with their own ambitions, friends, routines, worries and inherited craziness—an epic story that continues invisibly around you like an anthill sprawling deep underground, with elaborate passageways to thousands of other lives that you’ll never know existed, in which you might appear only once, as an extra sipping coffee in the background, as a blur of traffic passing on the highway, as a lighted window at dusk.it never really hits sam quite as hard as it does at night.





	sonder-

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Love is Not a Victory March](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3571559) by [ADeedWithoutaName](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ADeedWithoutaName/pseuds/ADeedWithoutaName). 



> idk what this is i was in a mood i'm sorry but not really idk
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: mention of dean being dead and not coming back

it never really hits sam quite as hard as it does at night.

 _sonder_ , the idea that everyone around you is living their own story, each with its own ups and its own downs and its own characters and  everyone is but a passing watcher to everyone else’s stories, never to appear again in any given plot, any chapter.

the impala’s been a big part of sam’s story, he realizes one chilly night, holed up in the backseat, cheek pressed to cold leather because he can’t bring himself to turn the page.

it’s only been four days days since dean left. well. was taken, sam supposes, but taken by that permanent blackness that no one returns from.

god. he’s so pathetic.

can’t even say its name.

 _death_ , his mind fills in unhelpfully. _dean’s dead, sam. turn the page. start the next chapter. you’re a hunter. you know death. you know this is what you signed up for._

but it really isn’t. sam didn’t choose to be born into this story. he didn’t ask to be written into the stories of his father, his mother. his brother.

sometimes stories end sooner than they’re supposed to. sometimes they end because their writer can’t keep going. sometimes they end because someone slams the book shut and they’re helpless to re-open it.

sam can’t turn the page, can’t bring his fake id to yet another motel desk where he’ll just be another tiny blip in the story of the person at the front desk, can’t do anything but stay on this last page of this chapter, driving down miles and miles of empty road during the day, barricading himself in the car at night, wrapped in dean’s jacket, chasing every last scent he can, squeezing his eyes shut against the inevitable tears that spill every night.

it wasn’t supposed to end this way.

people come in and out of sam’s life every day. some of them stay longer, get their stories tangled with his until something happens. something always happens. and they get written out of each other’s stories.

it wasn’t supposed to be like that with dean, though. he’d been written into sam’s story before sam even started writing. they’d been so entwined , so in sync, so tangled up in each other that it really wasn’t dean and sam anymore, it’d become deanandsam. sam’s story was dean’s story, and dean’s story was sam’s story.

and now it’s gone.

now deanandsam is just sam. and sam doesn’t know what to do with his pen because now, such a big part of his plot has just been cut and he has to pick up and move on like nothing ever happened.

sonder. it’s such a big idea.

they used to talk about it.

 _dean_ used to talk about it.

they meet so many people, hunt so many things and beings.

dean used to say they were writing people’s stories for them, but sometimes it was better that way than the other.

sam doesn’t remember most of the things they’ve fought and defeated, but he knows that to those beings, they’re the main enemies and he doesn’t know how to feel about that. fuck. not them. _he’s_ their main enemy. not plural. no more dean. right.

it never really hits sam quite as hard as it does at night.

he misses dean.

misses their little spats in the car, misses his stupid fucking music, misses his goddamn face.

misses his warmth when they shared beds. shared kisses. shared more.

but most of all he just misses his brother, misses his presence, misses being around him.

misses his strength and calm and the way he was the anchor in their permanently shifting, evolving universe.

sam doesn’t want to turn the page, doesn’t want to let go of dean’s story because along with dean’s story is such a big part of his but he has to, he has to let go and move forward and keep writing.

it never really hits sam quite as hard as it does at night.

 

//

**Author's Note:**

> leave a comment or kudos if you teared up or kind of want to hunt me down bc same


End file.
